


White Shoes

by Newtexe (ArcMages)



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Language, M/M, Mild Gore, Pre-IT Chapter Two (2019)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:02:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29503827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcMages/pseuds/Newtexe
Summary: In which Eddie Kaspbrak disappears one night, the only trace of him left are his pair of bloody white shoes.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Kudos: 13





	White Shoes

**Author's Note:**

> Why is the writing so weird? because I tried to sort of replicate stephen king's writing while also implementing the kid's personality. anyways i hope you enjoy! this story has some horror and gruesome aspects to it but i don't think my writing is graphic enough for it to be of any worry.

His heart skipped a beat with each step he took that brought him closer to the run-down ugly-looking house. He skipped along, tapping his shoes onto the pavement and whistling to himself in hopes of calming his nerves as he trotted down the deserted street which was littered with bicycles and soccer balls that the neighborhood children had left behind to go god knows where. Technically, Richie could just hop on a bike right now and totally get away with it. It would make his travels a lot easier if he had brought his own bike for the trip but for a certain specific reason— he didn't. He wanted this trip to be long, he wanted to take his time. Eddie had no idea he was coming and with each breath he took, he considered just turning back and calling him instead to see if the boy was actually free. 

It had been an hour since Richie had left his house and fretted every second of his decision. If Eddie wasn't even home then all of the anxiety would be for nothing. But that wouldn't be the case, for Eddie never left the damn house due to his fatass mother who insisted he must stay inside at all times and prevent the germs from getting to him. Well, Eddie did leave the house regardless of his mother's wishes but he that was ONLY when he had plans with friends. 

Richie let out a groan and slapped his own face with the box he had in hand, creating a hollow _bonk_ sound and the shuffling of the items inside. _Stop thinking so much, Richie!_ He told himself. _Stop being such a little bitch and act like a man for once in your life! Goddamnit if Eddie saw you like this, arriving up at his door with a nervous sweat breaking out on your face and gray hair from stress then even his dumbass would know that you FUCKED UP! And according to the rules of Richie, fucking up was NOT allowed._

Richie played it out in his head— how he would arrive at the door. Perhaps he could do one of his spectacular imitations and say "G'day sire! Have you any time to spare to dilly dally with me, my good man? Oh I mustn't take up too much of your time but here I am anyway so at the order of the court, you must take this box!" and then he would hold out the box and Eddie would give him a weird grin and take it. Sure, that's how it could play out. And ideally, that's how it should play out. Unless if Eddie was busying counting each pill he had for the umpteenth time, then his reaction would be more like, "Richie get the fuck out of my house before you step all over my shit! They're important stuff!" in his high voice.

Richie breathed out a slight laugh at the thought of it. _Eddie and his fucking meds._ Anxiously, he shook the shoebox in his hands, listening to the slide of the shoes inside against the thin paper wrapping and cardboard of the box. He hoped Eddie would like them. He had chosen them out by his own self (with maybe the help of Bill, good ol' trusty Bill) and wracked his brain, spending an hour in that rubber-smelling store to choose the perfect one. And in the end, he hadn't. 

The shoes he had end up buying were bleach white— exactly what Eddie wouldn't want. He would probably want something red or blue, just normal colors that any boy would want. And after Bill had questioned Richie's sanity for what seemed like a trillion times, neither of their minds never changed. And with the little wad of cash he had accumulated over months of scavenging, Richie managed to purchase them. In the hour that passed after, he and Bill talked of a new horror movie coming to theaters that the Loser's Club could see about some guy named Adrian who gets ripped apart into shreds under a bridge. Then Bill left for dinner at his home and Richie was left alone to complete his task.

Now, Richie was wondering if he had made a decision even on the slightest-bit-of-okay-spectrum. Eddie wouldn't want white shoes. His mother wouldn't allow him to keep white shoes. But Richie wanted Eddie to have these white shoes. Not because he would look great in them with his small frame— but because he thought maybe if Eddie could see the dirt on his shoes, he would become less of a pussy to it. (But yes, also because Eddie would be quite cute in them.)

Eddie's house was nearing. It was just down the street, a couple of houses down. From this distance, if he or his mom were looking out of the front window, they would spot him. So he figured now was the time to stop hesitating and just go for it. But what exactly had made him so nervous? It could've been the fear of rejection or maybe the fact that Eddie's mother was a crazy bitch. Either way, his heart pounded heavily in his chest as he walked up the driveway, which still had a car parked in it, and up the front steps, his shoes slightly tapped up on the old wood with each step. 

At the door, he cleared his throat first before doing his fancy knock of a rhythmic beat that signaled it was him. Waiting a couple of moments, he adjusted his glasses up higher on his bridge and tapped his foot. A few moments later, he could hear the sound of sock-covered feet thumping towards the door. It opened with a creak, revealing Eddie standing at the door with a simple red shirt on and beige shorts. He wore white socks with red rings at the top up to his ankles, perfect for the shoes. His round eyes gave Richie some sort of half-smile.

"What are you doing here, Richie?" he asked.

Richie gave a salute, realizing that his hand was shaking a bit. He then bowed 90 degrees and whipped his body back up. "Your highness! I believe you have a present from a neighboring country far far away!" he announced, raising his voice.

Eddie who held the door open eyed him oddly, then the box in his hands. "A present? You're talking about the box?"

"Goddamnit Eddie of course I am!" said Richie, shaking his head in disappointment. "What else could I be talking about? My crotch?"

Eddie winced at the last word as if it had offended him. "That's disgusting," he said. He then looked off to the side, likely checking for his mom, and then widened his already round eyes and put a finger to his lips. Richie figured his mother's ears were too fat to hear anyways.

"Well? Your highness? Aren't you going to take it?" Richie asked, switching back into character.

"What's in it?" Eddie asked with an eye roll. "Don't tell me it's a jack-in-a-box ready to fling out and punch me or a nest of centipedes."

"Centipedes?!" his mother hollered from the back, her hoarse voice booming like thunder. "Eddie dear! Did you say centipedes?!"

"It's nothing!" he called back, embarrassed. 

Richie choked out a snicker, not even trying to hold it back. Poor Eddie having to deal with a helicopter parent— must be a serious pain in the ass. He then held out the box triumphantly before him. "That, you must find out yourself! Though I assure you there are no such centipedes in the present."

"How do you know there aren't any centipedes if the present is from a 'country far far away'?" Eddie asked, playing along a bit though he left out the voice.

There was only two ways to answer this: say he had been a snoop and looked in or admit that the present was from him. Well, the second answer would only ruin the fun so he decided to go with the first one. "I'm sorry your highness! I couldn't resist! I assure you it's a wonderful gift though."

Eddie let out a sigh. "Fine," he said. "But we're going to open it outside." He then stepped out of the house, closing the door behind him, and made his way down the porch with Richie following behind, taking big steps. They stopped on the empty road where Eddie told him to put down the box.

Richie dropped it down, letting it create a _thunk_ sound. He then sat down on the hard pavement next to it, crossing his legs. "Now, shall I open it for you or are you capable of doing that yourself?" he asked.

Eddie kneeled on the street, keeping a safe distance from the box in case if anything would actually jump out. "This better not be fucking bugs," he said and put his fingers on the lid.

Richie held his breath as Eddie lifted the lid off, revealing a sheet of tissue paper and under it, the shoes. Eddie threw the paper out and gasped when his eyes met with the perfect white. "Holy shit!" he let out as his hands hovered over it like it was some sort of chest of gold. "How much did this cost?"

"It doesn't matter. Was pretty cheap," Richie shrugged. He adjusted his glasses again. "What do you think of it?"

"They're... nice. But there's no way I can wear this," Eddie breathed.

Of course, Richie expected this. It basically suggested that Eddie would just keep them tidy in his closet forever until he outgrew them. "Why not?" he asked. "They're just shoes."

"My mom would have a heart attack when she sees these covered in mud," Eddie said. And by mud, he meant the barrens. The barrens where the Loser's Club often hung out in the river water next to the sewers.

Richie threw his hands into the air. "And so what?" he asked. "It's not like she's gonna stop you from wearing shoes."

"Actually she will," Eddie replied bluntly with a frown.

"Well then!" Richie hopped up onto his two feet with a single push up. He threw the lid onto the box and swooped it into hands. "If his majesty doesn't need any new shoes, then they shall be ownerless!" Once again, he was preforming that silly act of his but it was only as a distraction for how he really felt. This was exactly how he didn't want it to go.

And perhaps the magnification of his eyes from the glasses had made his feelings more evident. Eddie stood up also and shook his head with a 'tch.' "Fine Richie," he said, giving in. "I'll take it and I'll wear them tomorrow, okay?"

This sparked a fire of excitement and relief in Richie. Even if Eddie was just playing for the sake of it, it still meant a lot to him. So much that he almost broke character and threw his hands into air while erupting a cheer from the deepest part of his lungs. But he didn't. He held down the boiling bubbles which became more aggressive with each second of his elation. He (fake) sniffed, adjusting his glasses, and looked at Eddie right in the eye.

"You sure? You mean it?" he asked.

"Yeah yeah I do," Eddie said and swiped the box from his hands, cradling it under his arm. He then turned to head back to the house. "I'll show you, let's meet up tomorrow."

"As you wish," Richie said, making it seem as if it were Eddie who wanted to show off the shoes. "Barrens at noon. I'll call up the rest of the Losers."

The two were just about to part until Richie stopped Eddie who had made it halfway up the driveway. "You got it?" he called out.

"Yeah yeah yeah I do," Eddie said back, rolling his eyes as he hopped up the front porch steps.

Richie watched Eddie open the door and head back inside. Once the boy was out of sight, Richie made a sprint down the still-empty street. He jumped off into the air using his adrenaline as a hoist. He threw his hands out, feeling the nonexistent wind brush at his skin through his clothes and let out a holler. "WOO! I DID IT! I DID IT!"

 _See Richie? You did it! You're capable! He took the shoes! He's gonna wear 'em! See? There was nothing to worry about after all! Hell, you made such a fuss over something so little._ A voice laughed in his head. And in response, Richie laughed along with it.

This was what you could call: a mission success.


End file.
